Wicked Game
by Lazarus Risen
Summary: James had been captivated by Nathan’s ease of manner, and his charming, toothy smile, and the sparkle in his sharp eyes. Slash. Spoilers for Six Months Ago.


**Wicked Game**

**A/N:** This came to me in a dream...no, seriously, it did. It was an awesome dream, too. I'm new to the Heroes fandom, as I only got into the show during its break, so I'm "fresh meat", as it were. This is also the first time in three years that I've written fanfic, which says a lot about how much I like this show and how welcome I feel in the fandom. It took me six nerve-racking weeks to write this, and, as you can see by the word count, it ended up being much longer than I had intended, so I separated it into three parts to make it easier for all of you.

This story takes place a month before "Genesis".

* * *

James felt his hot breath gather into a sticky mist as he yawned slowly and sleepily into the palm of his hand. His eyes rolled back into his head and he fell backwards in his seat as utter exhaustion consumed every inch of his body. It had been another one of those nights—nights of endless parties and strange men and strange hands climbing their way stealthily across his back, sending little prickles of anticipation down where the sun didn't shine.

His head lolled uselessly on the back of his large, comfortable chair. James's eyes fluttered closed, although he could not yet bring himself to go to sleep, because that would mean that he would have more dreams about..._him._

Nathan Petrelli. The name alone was enough to cause James's heart to skip a beat and his jaw to start convulsing. He had met Nathan at a Democratic convention two years ago; James had been there to meet several Senate hopefuls who were counting on securing him for campaign contributions, and Nathan had been there to mingle with the political elite in order to make imperative connections. James had spilled some champagne on Nathan's suit accidentally. Mortified, he had immediately seized a napkin and had started patting at the fresh stain on Nathan's chest, when he'd realized what he was doing and had sheepishly grinned at the stoically grim look on the lawyer's face.

"Sorry, so sorry," James had said, and handed the napkin over to Nathan, who'd reluctantly yanked it out of James's hand and had started wiping the now quite large stain. "I wasn't looking where I was going..."

"Obviously," Nathan had muttered, and had thrown the napkin into a nearby trash can. He'd buttoned up his suit. "Now, if you'll excuse me..."

Nathan had started to leave, but James had grabbed his arm before he could. "Say, who are you?" James had asked. "I've never seen you before."

"Nathan Petrelli." Nathan had shook his arm free of James's ring-clad fingers. "I work with the Manhattan D.A."

"Ah, I see," James had said, smiling knowingly. "Thinking of running for Congress in a couple years, are you?"

Nathan had shifted uncomfortably. "Well, I'm not...making any promises yet, but—"

"Ooh! There's Senator Kelley!" James had exclaimed in a high-pitched voice, and had once again grabbed Nathan's arm, and started dragging him over to the rather menacing personage of Kelley. "He's a _very_ influential man, Kelley is; make friends with him and you'll basically be set for life! You should compliment his suit, you know, he really likes it when people compliment his _ensembles_, and make sure you don't mention the giant mole on the right side of his face, it's a _really_ sensitive issue with him; and most importantly, ask about his family, because then he'll talk about them for the longest time and you'll get in his good books easy!"

Nathan had stared at him, bewildered. "Who _are_ you?"

James had not answered, but instead had shoved Nathan into Senator Kelley's path, said "Have fun!", and trotted off to join Senator Myers and his Chief of Staff Lucas Bartleby.

James had chatted up a storm with the two affable politicians, while out of the corner of his eye watching Nathan talk smoothly and easily with the powerful senator. James had been captivated by Nathan's ease of manner, and his charming, toothy smile and the sparkle in his sharp eyes. His heart beat had slightly quickened when Nathan had brushed aside a loose strand of his hair, and when his eyes had crinkled with laughter after Kelley had made one of his infamous bad jokes.

When the evening had been winding down, and after Nathan had finally finished his rather lengthy conversation with Kelley, he'd walked right up to James, who had been chomping on a shrimp cocktail in the corner of the room.

"I guess I owe you one now," Nathan had smirked.

James had quickly swallowed and smiled. "I take it that it went well?"

"Very." Nathan's eyes had quickly darted about the room, and he had leaned in and whispered, "Kelley's even offered to support me should I ever decide to run for Congress."

"That's great."

Nathan had nodded and said, "Well, it was great meeting you, um..." His brows had furrowed.

"James Yates."

Nathan's eyes had widened. "James Yates? The producer?"

"The one and only!" James had chirped.

"Oh! Oh...well, it was. Very nice. Meeting you," Nathan had said awkwardly. "I better be going now. And I _do_ owe you one!" He had called out over his shoulder as he had hastily made his way to the exit.

"You know, the fact that I'm a flaming homo shouldn't stop you from talking to me," James had said coolly. Nathan had stopped dead in his tracks at this and had turned on his heel to face him.

"Excuse me?"

"It shouldn't. I'm here, aren't I? I make campaign contributions to Democratic candidates, and pretty large ones at that. Almost nobody here cares about the fact that I am rather famous for being a purse-carrying, Liza Minelli-listening, pink-wearing queer."

"Wha—I—no—I didn't mean to imply—" Nathan had sputtered incoherently, clearly having been caught off-guard by James's bluntness.

James had rolled his eyes. "Whatever, doll. It doesn't matter."

"Well—_yeah_ it does!" Nathan rubbed his neck, looking stunned and completely at a loss for words. James had felt rather sorry for the fellow, a man who seemed as though he always knew the right thing to say, and now didn't know what to say at all. "I don't..._care_ about stuff like that, Yates."

"Sure you don't."

"No, really." Nathan had gazed at James with his piercing eyes that James couldn't quite place the color of. Were they brown or green? "I don't."

James had smiled slowly. "Okay. I believe you."

"All right." Nathan had smiled back, and made his way out the door.

"I'm hosting a dinner on Saturday; you should come," James had told Nathan's retreating back.

"I'm there," Nathan had said, and closed the door shut behind him.

Two years had passed. Two years of glances darted across long dining room tables, two years of silent longings and yearnings, two years of light-headedness in his presence, and two years of dreams about him every single goddamn night. It was difficult to say when exactly James had fallen in love with him—people more romantic than he might say that it was love at first sight, but James was too jaded and experienced to think something as naive and adolescent as that. All he knew was that Nathan had haunted his dreams and his every waking thought for much too long—and that it was slowly sucking all the strength he had and all the hope he had.

James did not like feeling this way; he much preferred having gone-in-a-flash flings in which neither person grew too attached or too sentimental before the short wave of lust was over. Having emotions as strong as these did not suit his flighty nature, and he found himself resenting Nathan for it, while at the same time knowing that he could never truly hate the bastard.

He yawned again and stretched, desperate to keep himself awake, but he had been up too long and partied too long and had done other things too long...all these random encounters and entanglements with the strange men, they did nothing to quell his need for Nathan and his slight shoulders and his smarmy smile. He had thought they would, those many months ago when he had started, but they hadn't, and James couldn't quite explain why he continued to go out every night, except that when he engaged in those nefarious activities, he'd imagine that whoever it was, was Nathan. Sometimes it was the only way he could get through the pointless dinners and meetings and get-togethers with the man who was slowly but surely destroying every bit of happiness in James's life.

James gave up the struggle, and succumbed to the otherworldly realm of dreams.

* * *

"I'm down ten points in the polls," Nathan announced as he strode into James's office the next morning.

"Huh? What?" James asked sleepily, lifting his head off of his desk. He hadn't gotten much sleep the previous night, and what little he'd gotten had been light and unsatisfying.

"I'm down ten points in the polls," Nathan repeated, and slammed the newspaper down right next to James's head. "Apparently, the public thinks I'm not 'personable' enough."

"Well, you have to admit, Nattie-boy, you can be awfully cold and unfeeling sometimes," James said, picking up the newspaper and flipping through it. He propped his feet up on the desk. "'Woman Has 15-Pound-Baby'? What is this, _The National Enquirer_?"

"It's the _Times_, you idiot," Nathan snarled, and plopped himself down on one of the armchairs facing James. "And it says I'm ten points down in the polls!"

"Oh relax, sugar, you can bounce back easily from this," James said, lazily tossing the paper into the trash. He noticed Nathan flinch when he called him "sugar". "All you have to do is make some appearances—kiss some babies and all that."

"I'm afraid it's not going to be that simple."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because it's not just that I'm not 'personable'," Nathan said. "Remember last week, when Peter went to the press and talked about the 'vision' he saw before the accident?"

"Yeah."

"People think he's nuts," Nathan declared. "So, now they think I'm nuts too. And it probably doesn't help that my dad committed suicide five months ago; the press is bound to get wind of that eventually. Ugh!" He rubbed his hand down over his face and sighed in exasperation. "Goddammit, Peter..."

"Oh, don't drag your poor brother into this, Nathan!" James admonished. "Hasn't he got enough to worry about now, what with being around dying people all the time and everything? For God's sake, _don't_ give him _any_ grief over this; that reporter tricked him into talking about that dream he had, and it's not his fault. Besides, he's your brother, and you should support him no matter what (and I say this _as_ a younger brother, so I would know). I mean, is the election all that you care about?"

"Yes."

James sighed and took his feet off the desk. "Well, then you've got bigger problems than being ten points down in the stupid polls!"

Nathan gazed at him for several seconds, and James felt a delicious shiver travel all throughout his body. Nathan turned his head to look out the window.

"It's a nice day out," he observed.

"Yeah, I guess so," James said, looking out the window as well. The sky was a cloudless, azure blue and New York's skyscrapers shone with an almost blinding white light.

"Days like these aren't gonna last much longer," said Nathan.

"Okay." James was unsure of where he was going with this.

Nathan remained silent for another moment or so, looking very contemplative and solemn. Finally, he stood up and extended his hand to James. "Nice talking to you, Jim."

James cautiously shook Nathan's hand, which seemed to send little electrocutes into his own. "Goodbye...?"

"Yeah." He stared James straight in the eye, and started to leave when James called after him:

"Why'd you come here, anyway? Didn't your consultants tell you what you should do?"

Nathan slowly turned back around. "Yeah, they did."

"So why did you come here?"

He seemed to ponder this for a second, then said, "I just wanted to be sure. Talking to you—" He abruptly stopped speaking and hurriedly left James's office.

"Talking to me—what?" James yelled. "Nathan!"

But Nathan was already long gone.

James sighed and rubbed his eyes. Goddamn Nathan and his stupid weird exits. Goddamn him! Sending his mind on a fucking roller coaster of possible endings to that unfinished sentence...

_Stop, brain_, James sternly told his overactive imagination, and once again laid his head down on his desk and tried to get some sleep.

* * *

He didn't want to wake up from this one.

Nathan's hot, sticky fingers were stealthily climbing their way up James's bare chest, which was heaving up and down in ragged breaths. Nathan looked up mischievously into James's eyes. They were both bare naked, lying in tangled sheets, their legs entwined in such a way that James could not tell his legs from Nathan's.

"Do you want me to?" Nathan purred.

"Yes," James panted. "God, yes, please..."

Nathan smirked coquettishly, and tilted his head sideways, seemingly scrutinizing James's face. His eyes glittered with something that James did not recognize, and Nathan smoothed back James's hair.

"I love you," Nathan whispered.

* * *

Something hard hit James on the head.

"Ow!" James shrieked, jerking his head off the desk and clutching the back of his skull. "What in Cher's name—?"

"Susan just sent in the new trailer for _The Lizard King_," his secretary Charlotte said, brandishing a videotape. "You were sleeping, and you wouldn't wake up, so I hit you over the head with it."

"How nice of you," said James sarcastically. "I was having a very pleasant dream, until you so _rudely_ interrupted me." He snatched the tape out of her hands. "Thank you. Goodbye."

Charlotte rolled her eyes and left the office, muttering something unintelligible under her breath.

James tossed the tape onto his desk. He couldn't be bothered watching it now; he had more pressing matters on his mind.

Rubbing his temples, he turned around in his swivel chair to face his giant painting of _The Persistence of Memory_. Something about that painting appealed to him—he didn't know what, exactly, but he liked it regardless. He stared up at it, the melted clocks sort of hypnotizing him into a dreamy state. Random thoughts swirled around and around in his head, bits of sentences that made no sense and random images of things like notebook paper and the bottom of leather shoes.

_I really wish I could get some sleep_, James thought as he shook his head to clear the strange, floaty thoughts. He glanced over at the clock; apparently he had only napped for about ten minutes.Next to Nathan, sleep had become his obsession, and he was only obsessed with it because of Nathan, so the only way he could get any sleep would be to stop loving Nathan, which wasn't possible, so he'd have to put up with only getting about three hours of sleep a night, combined with a total of one hour dispersed throughout the day. Life just wasn't fair.

Since he couldn't get to sleep, James decided to think of a possible strategy to save Nathan from this recent dip in the polls. Nathan seemed to be under the impression that the public was doubtful of his mental stability. James didn't think this was true. The citizens of New York were not that stupid; anyone could tell by watching one of his televised speeches that Nathan Petrelli was of a perfectly sound mind—the question was whether he really represented the people or not. His opponent, Republican Jonathan Henry, had an extremely good track record as far as education and tax cuts were concerned. Nathan had him on crime, since he used to be a very successful criminal justice lawyer, but so far he had not publicly proposed any plans to improve education, health care, or even what his stance on gay marriage was. James knew that Nathan _did_ have plans, and very good ones at that, only for some reason he seemed reluctant to bring those particular issues to the table. James could understand the gay marriage thing, but most Democrats were in favor of at least civil unions, so James could not quite see what the big deal would be if Nathan came out and said he was in favor of legalizing gay marriage. But hey—it was a hot button issue right now, and maybe not a good political move. James wasn't an expert in politics. What he _did _know, however, was that Nathan needed to get off his ass and start telling the people what he was really planning to do should New Yorkers elect him to Congress, and not continue spewing the same old bullshit over and over on reducing crime rates and enacting tighter gun control laws. It was getting repetitive and boring, and James suspected that this was the real reason that Nathan was ten points down in the polls.

He tapped his chin thoughtfully. Would Nathan be back at headquarters yet? Probably not. It was all the way across town. Since this seemed like too important of a thing to force Nathan to discuss on a cell phone, James decided to wait another half hour or so to call and give his thoughts. He knew that Nathan probably wouldn't take him too seriously—he seemed to be really agitated at his brother as of late, and eager to use him as a scapegoat—but it was worth a shot.

James sighed, grabbed the videotape on his desk, and popped it into the VCR. He hated watching trailers, especially for movies as bad as _The Lizard King_, but what could you do.

* * *

"I dunno, Jim..."

"Oh, come on, Nathan! You need to stop being such a pansy!"

"Look who's talking."

"Hey! I am a Nancy boy, not a pansy! There's a difference."

"Not a big one."

"Look, just shut up and listen. Your problem isn't your brother. Your problem is _you_."

"Thanks for the morale boost, Yates," Nathan scoffed. "Just what I need two months before the election."

"I'm trying to _help_ you, okay?" James said angrily. "You could at least pretend that you're listening."

"All right, I'll pretend."

"You haven't talked about your plans for education reform or health care."

"Yes, I have!"

"Yeah, but have you _talked_ about it? You didn't say anything that wasn't already a given, or you just said something like, 'We are working diligently and untiringly to solve the problem of high health care costs', which is the same thing as saying, 'We have no idea what the hell we're doing'."

"We have plans."

"Yeah, but you haven't _talked_ about them!" James exclaimed. "You need to make speeches, you need to let people know where you stand on...on important things!"

Nathan sighed heavily. "If you're talking about gay marriage—"

"No I wasn't, actually, but if you want to go there, that's okay by me," James said primly.

"It just wouldn't be a wise move."

"Why not?"

"Because everybody in the damn world is homophobic, that's why," Nathan said. "Or mostly everyone. Now, it's not totally unknown that I support it, but if I actually made a speech or something saying that I was in favor of gay marriage, I would _have_ to add that I didn't personally condone homosexual behavior, but seeing as how the Constitution grants everyone equal privileges, I support gay marriage solely for that reason. Even _that_ might lose me some votes! And I can't afford to lose any votes, especially not now."

"That's pretty much what I figured," James said. "Now—"

"You _do_ know I don't give a damn what anyone's sexual orientation is, right, Jim?" Nathan said in a low, unintentionally sexy murmur.

James shivered, but replied, "Yes, I know, Nathan. Let's move on, shall we?"

"Okay. I just wanted to be sure you knew."

James smiled. Nathan, underneath his frigid, hard exterior, really was a feeling, human, compassionate person. Sometimes. "Moving on."

"Yes."

"I'm pretty sure that the reason you dipped down in the polls is because nobody thinks that you would do a good job," he said.

"You know, your amazing sense of tact really does astound me," said Nathan dryly.

"Would you shut up and let me talk?! _Anyway_...the _reason_ they think you won't do a good job is because one, you seem too stern and cold, so yes, it does have something to do with you not being 'personable'. Two, you won't talk about important issues that you might actually—get ready for this one—have to take a stance on! The way you're straddling the fence now, it's a small wonder that your balls haven't—" James cut himself off before he could say anything else.

Nathan burst out laughing. "Go on!"

James glared at the phone, although he knew Nathan couldn't see him. "Anyway. People admire politicians that aren't afraid to speak their mind. You really should hold a press conference and_ really_ talk about your plans. People want to hear them—and not the same ones you've been spewing for the past few months."

There was a contemplative silence on the other end for several moments, and then Nathan said, "You know...I think you're right. Everyone's been telling me I should hold off on really going for the health care stuff until I'm actually _in_ Congress, along with other things...and..." He broke off, and seemed to be thinking about something, although James knew there was no way he could really tell. "And...yes. I agree with you. I'll talk to my people. You know..." Nathan chuckled. "It's funny...the people I pay to do this kind of thinking for me never even came up with anything you just told me. Not a one of them! And here you are, with no experience in politics at all, and you just..."

The conversation lapsed again into a quiet repose, and James prayed that Nathan could not hear his rapidly thumping heart over the phone.

"Well, thanks," Nathan finally finished. "I'll see you tomorrow, Jim."

"Yeah," James said faintly. "Tomorrow." Nathan hung up, and James did likewise.

* * *

It was very funny, how there was always a plentiful amount of nut bowls in all the gay bars that he went to. He guessed that the club owners really wanted to drive home what they were all trying to do here. He also guessed that actually _eating_ the nuts might not be a good idea, but he was hungry, so he grabbed a few out of the bowl and stuffed them into his mouth. It provided some nice imagery, anyway.

James leaned back in his seat and crossed his legs as he chomped on the nuts leisurely. Any minute now, someone was going to come up to him and ask him what his name was—

"Excuse me," said a "sweet young thang", as James's ex might've called him. Then again, James's ex would've called almost anyone a "sweet young thang", as James now knew all too well. He shook his head; now was not the time to think about fabulously failed relationships.

"Yes?" he asked, swallowing down the last of the nuts.

"Couldn't help but notice you eating those nuts," the young guy said, grinning slyly.

James smirked back. "I'm sure you couldn't."

The young guy slid easily onto the couch and clasped his hands together. "You sticking around for a while?"

"Yeah."

"I'm Roger." The guy extended his hand, and James shook it.

"I'm James; nice to meet you, Roger," James said cheerfully, and smiled with confidence. This was gonna be an easy one. "So, Roger—what brings _you_ to this neck of the woods?"

Roger smirked. "Whaddaya think, gorgeous?"

Inwardly James grimaced, but he feigned blushing and playfully slapped Roger on the knee. "Oh, stop! You're embarrassing me," he giggled.

Roger gave a slow, sexy smile, and brushed back his long bangs. "How embarrassed do I have to make you before I can fuck you senseless in the back of my car?"

_Ooh, we've got ourselves a regular Romeo here, ladies and germs_, James thought, but instead said, "Ah, now, we mustn't get carried away, hmm? What do you say you buy me a drink first, then we'll talk."

"You got it." Roger grinned and made his way over to the bar.

James sighed and shoved some more nuts into his mouth, if only to keep himself occupied. He had completely stupid conversations like these every single night, and he was getting rather sick of the corny pick-up lines and the cheesy come-ons he had to endure and participate in. But what else could he do? Sit around in his penthouse and mope and watch old movies on TV while eating bowls upon bowls of ice cream? No. This was much less pathetic. Still pathetic, of course, but not as much as shuffling around his home in tacky flannel pajamas and watching re-runs of _I Love Lucy_.

He was grabbing some more nuts when suddenly the loudspeaker came on, and someone announced, "Hey, girls!"

"HEYYYY!!!!!" nearly everyone in the club yelled back.

"Boy, have we got a sur_prise_ for _you_!" the announcer said, and all the TVs in the place suddenly switched to the local news, where—James almost choked on his nuts—Nathan was making a speech.

"What the hell—!" James exclaimed, while all the men in the club started whooping and hollering with glee.

"It's your most favorite, your most adored, your prime-cut steak plucked straight out of the frozen meat section—the sexiest Democrat in our little town, _Nathan Petrelli_!"

James felt like killing himself while men started screaming and fainting onto the couches; he felt caught in some sort of gay farcical romp where nothing made sense and everything in the world was pink and gay and oh-so-fabulous. Seriously. Nathan, a gay icon? It didn't make any damn sense! The man _was_ amazingly attractive, of course, but—

"Ohmigosh, I _love_ Nathan Petrelli," gushed Roger, back with the drinks. He handed a Cosmopolitan to James, who eagerly grabbed it out of Roger's hands and started slurping it down like it was holy water. "He is so _fine_! Mmm! The things I would do to him if I got the chance..."

"Yeah, me too," James muttered, and wiped the excess alcohol off from his lips. His heart was pounding much too hard, and he felt slightly faint. It was amazing that Nathan could have this effect on him while not even being in the same room! "What's he saying?"

Roger leaned down and squinted at the television sets on the floor, where Nathan seemed to be giving some sort of passionate speech. "I dunno," he shrugged, sitting back up. "Whatever it is, he seems really into it."

"Hmm..." James knew he ought not to get his hopes up, but he couldn't help it; he really wanted Nathan's speech to be about what they had been discussing earlier, and the idea that Nathan had actually listened to him and was actually making a speech about it quickly gave seed to insane hopes and fantasies and God knew what else.

"So..." Roger looked over expectantly at James, who was still deep in thought and deep in his Cosmopolitan. "Wanna come back to my place?"

James glanced over at Roger, who looked like a puppy eagerly awaiting its reward for having performed some sort of special trick. "No."

Roger looked stunned, then utterly crestfallen. "Why?"

"Eh. You're not my type." James swilled down the last of the Cosmo and smirked at Roger, who glared at him.

"Bitch," Roger muttered, and angrily stormed off.

James placed the empty glass on the table next to him, and continued to watch Nathan make his fervently heart-felt speech on the glass floor.

* * *

"Yes! Yes! Ha ha! WOO-HOO!" Nathan Petrelli screamed at the top of his lungs as he came leaping into James's office the following day. "Fifteen points! _Fifteen fucking points!_ WOO!"

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, simmer down!" said James, putting down a script he was reading. "What fifteen points?"

"I'm _fifteen points_ _ahead_ in the polls!" Nathan exclaimed, waving around the _Times _and doing some sort of strange jig. "Fifteen points! That means I went up twenty-five points in one day! Do you know how much twenty-five points _is_ in these polls? Astronomical, practically! This is _amazing_! Holy CRAP!"

"I've never seen you so excited before!" James laughed, quickly taking part in Nathan's happiness, although in a much more subdued manner than Nathan, who was practically bouncing around the room.

"I don't think even _I_ have!" Nathan started laughing hysterically, and threw the newspaper onto James's desk. "Go on! Read it if you don't believe me!"

"Oh, no, I believe you," James chuckled. "Your little Irish jig there is enough evidence for me. Aren't you Italian?"

"Who cares?" Nathan stopped doing the jig, however, and instead simply stood there in the middle of the room, grinning at James like a lunatic.

"You're kinda freaking me out, Nathan," said James, laughing nervously. It was bad enough that Nathan was incredibly hyper and way too excited; it was extremely disconcerting to see him ecstatically happy about something, especially since James had never actually _seen_ Nathan ecstatically happy about something. Ever.

"Heh. Sorry." Nathan rubbed his neck and gave James a shame-faced smile. "This is just really good news, you know? The first good news in a while."

"Yeah," James said quietly. When Heidi had been paralyzed in that awful accident in April, it had hit everyone hard—Nathan especially. It had literally torn James's heart in two listening to Nathan blame himself over and over again, his head in his hands and tears in his eyes, while James kept trying to reassure him that he could not have possibly prevented it, and that he was incredibly lucky that he hadn't gotten hurt himself. It was the same thing everyone else was telling him, James knew, but he hadn't known what else to say.

But all that was in the past now, as Nathan kept insisting. Heidi was an amazingly strong woman, and making the most of her situation, while Nathan continued to work hard at his campaign, kicking ass and taking names. This newest victory seemed to have brought a new hope into his life—a hope that he might feasibly win the election now. James certainly hoped so, although a lot could happen in the two months left before Election Day.

"So," Nathan said, breaking the prolonged silence. "I'm having a celebration dinner tomorrow night to...well, celebrate. And you, of course, will be the guest of honor."

"Pardon?" James said, raising his eyebrows in surprise. "Why would _I_ be the guest of honor?"

Nathan frowned. "Didn't you watch my speech?"

"Well...well, I _saw_ it," James said lamely. "I was in a...in a bar. Couldn't really hear you over the sound of gay men screaming when you came on."

"What!" Nathan laughed. "Gay men _screaming_?"

James shrugged and smiled. "The gay community likes you. Well, the _male_ gay community, anyway."

"Great. I guess I can count on _their_ votes, then!" Nathan chuckled. "Any particular reason why they support me enough to start shrieking when I come on TV?"

"Oh, come on!" James said, his ears growing hot. "Do I have to say it?"

"Yes." Nathan smirked, and James knew that he already knew the answer—Nathan just wanted to torture him.

"Because you are a very attractive man, that's why," James said, picking up his script and pretending to peruse it so he wouldn't have to look at Nathan's smug face. "In other people's opinions, mind you. You're a bit too stuffy for _me_."

"Ha! That's interesting," said Nathan, giving another hearty laugh. "So, the party. It's going to be at the Battery Park Ritz at 7. The Manhattan Ballroom. Be there, or be...well, I was going to say square, but you're pretty square already, so just be there, all right?"

"Oh, ha ha," said James, rolling his eyes. "You're _so_ hilarious, dear. Droll, just perfectly droll."

"Yes, I am," Nathan said. "See ya there, Jim."

"Bye." James cautiously looked up from his script to watch Nathan leave.

"My _God_, that man has a fine ass," James muttered to himself, and went back to reading.

* * *

James's limo pulled up in front of the Ritz the next night. He glanced down at his diamond-encrusted watch and smirked. Seven o'clock on the dot. He climbed out of the limo and waved his driver goodbye as the vehicle went streaking down the street.

James straightened his tie and strode purposefully into the hotel where, apparently, _his_ party was being held. He could only assume that Nathan had taken James's advice wholly to heart from the way that he had made him the guest of honor at a party celebrating a huge victory in the polls. This gave him a soothing, wonderful feeling in the pit of his chest, although at the same time made him rather uneasy. He couldn't say why.

The party was in full swing already by the time he stepped off the elevator and made his way into the ballroom. Music was pounding out of the stereos placed in the high corners of the room, and the banquet tables had been shoved to the side to make space for a dance floor, which everyone was making liberal use of. It was a decidedly un-Nathan-like party. Usually there was sparkling champagne and Mozart floating gently and quietly throughout the room, and people talking and laughing politely in little groups. Now, however, there were martinis placed across the bar for people to slurp down as they pleased, rock music blaring loudly, and everyone shouting at each other to be heard over the din. The whole thing had James completely bemused.

He decided not to dwell on it too much, however, and searched the crowd for a familiar face..._the_ familiar face. And there it was, beaming and loosening its tie as it climbed up onto the stage.

"Hey! Cut off the music!" Nathan yelled, waving his arms, and the music abruptly shut off. "Great. Everyone! Listen up!" He clapped his hands loudly for attention, and everyone in the room turned to face him. "As you all know, I'm currently fifteen points ahead in the polls—"

Wild applause greeted this statement; Nathan smiled and patiently waited for the noise to die down. "Yes, yes, we're all very happy about this, of course." Nathan began pacing the stage, and grabbed the mic off from the mic stand. "Why wouldn't we be? It's an amazing, impossible thing, to be this far ahead in the polls when just the day before I was falling behind miserably. But we gotta ask ourselves something—how did this happen? How did this...I dunno, _miracle_ manifest itself overnight? I don't mean to sound overly dramatic about it or anything, but you have to admit, _no one_ saw this coming! Did anyone see this coming? No. No one did. Except for one man." He raised his index finger. "A visionary. A man who, despite having no background in politics, managed to come up with a plan that—well, seems pretty obvious now, but at the time sounded genius. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you—JAMES YATES!"

Nathan stopped pacing and, with a grand gesture, pointed to James, who was standing in the back of the room, his hands in his pockets. A spotlight suddenly fell on him, and he felt his face turn red as the crowd turned all at once to face him and give him a rousing ovation.

James laughed uncomfortably, but put his hand to his cheek, and waved his other hand in the air as though to swat the cheering away. The clapping eventually died out, leaving James grinning with fake embarrassment, the spotlight still on him. His grin felt more like a grimace. What was Nathan _doing_?

"How does it feel to be the guest of honor, Jim?" Nathan called to him from the stage.

"Completely mortifying!" James answered, and everyone laughed.

"Yeah, yeah, that's what he _says_," Nathan smirked. "We all know you love the attention, Yates!"

James shook his head, with his plastic smile still fixed on his face. "Got it all wrong, doll."_ Why the hell do you do this to me, Nathan..._

Nathan shook his head with a grin on his face as well, although you could tell that his was genuine. He set the mic back on its stand and spoke into it: "Have a good time, everyone."

The music came back on, the spotlight faded away, and everyone commenced their dancing and loud conversations.

James made his way over to the stage, which Nathan was jumping gazelle-like off of. Grinning that charming grin of his, Nathan jogged over to James and gave him a quick hug, with your standard straight-guy pat on the shoulder before releasement.

"Why are you doing this?" James asked as Nathan whipped off his tie and tossed it to his campaign manager, who caught it with one hand and placed it carefully on a banquet table.

"Doing what?" Nathan asked, and walked the short distance over to the bar, James on his heels.

"Throwing this party for _me_," James hissed, and leaned against the bar rail as Nathan ordered a scotch on the rocks. "It's way too much. I just gave you a simple suggestion, one your people would've told you to do soon anyway. I didn't write the speech you gave, I didn't do anything extraordinary, and I'm _not_ a genius. Why are you throwing this party for me?"

Nathan sighed and plopped down on one of the stools as the bartender prepared his drink. "I gotta tell ya, Jim, you're one of the most ungrateful son-of-a-bitches I've ever met."

James made a loud noise of disgust and slammed his hand on the counter-top with such force that several martini glasses spilled over. "I'm so _goddamn sick _of this, Nathan! I'm sick of _you_, I'm sick of—"

"Jesus _Christ_, Yates!" Nathan interjected, his face molded into a picturesque expression of shock and confusion. The bartender placed the glass of scotch in front of him, but he didn't seem to notice. "What the hell is wrong with you?! I thought you'd be _happy_. I even arranged it so it wasn't one those stuffy parties of mine that you hate so much!"

"Well, maybe I didn't want you to throw a goddamn party for me, did you ever think of _that_?!" James yelled. "I don't _want_ this! Do you know what you—it—it all just—oh, for_get_ it," he muttered, and stalked off to the side of the room, where he was instantly thrust into a conversation with Heidi's friend Katie and her husband Chris.

* * *

James couldn't really understand why he was so mad at Nathan, who he avoided for the rest of the party. He knew it had something to do with that flame inside of his chest that Nathan ignited every time he talked to him or touched him, but other than that it was hard to work out. He just felt unexplainably angry.

Although James did not approach or talk to Nathan in the few hours after their argument, he had noticed Nathan become steadily drunker as the evening progressed. He had already looked slightly tipsy when James had arrived; by the end of the night his shirt was half-way unbuttoned, he was stumbling around and laughing very loudly for no reason at all, and his speech was slurred beyond all comprehension by normal humans. He had a general appearance of lop-sidedness.

By eleven o'clock, the place was emptying, and quickly. It hadn't been too long of a party. Most of the people who had attended hadn't been what one would call young, and were all tired out by ten. James couldn't blame them, really; he was ready to turn in himself. It had been a crazy party, filled with wild dancing with random strangers that he had never met and long talks with old friends that he hadn't seen in years and that he'd had no idea that Nathan knew about. The whole evening had just been a whirlwind of confusion and occasional cocktails.

Although he desperately wanted to leave, he kept getting side-tracked by women in fur-coats who wanted to have a word with him before he left, and several men, all with thin moustaches, who wanted his opinion on the stocks, despite James's insistence that he knew next to nothing on the subject. When he finally escaped from the talk of tips and shares, he ran smack into Nathan's campaign manager, who was standing in front of the door with a blank expression on his face.

"Mr. Petrelli would like you to stay and finish the last cocktail with him," he said.

"Oh—oh, I can't, I have somewhere really important to be..." James said, but the campaign manager did not heed him and instead grabbed his arm and practically dragged him over to Nathan, who was sitting all by his lonesome at one of the banquet tables. The last few stragglers were filing out the door, and after the campaign manager had shoved James into a seat next to Nathan, he followed.

"'Lo, Jim," Nathan said, with a silly smile on his face. He laid his head down on the table and spread his arms out like wings. "I can fly, Jim-may! Woosh!"

James pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "What do you want, Nathan?"

"Have a drink wit' me, ol' pal," Nathan said, and slid a martini glass over to him.

"No thanks," said James, and set the glass aside. "I don't think you should be having anymore, either."

"Nope! I'm righ' as rain!" Nathan cried, suddenly lifting his head off of the table and flapping his arms about. "Rain, like th' scthuff that falls from th' sky!"

"You need to go home."

"Righ' as rain, my frien', righ' as rain," Nathan repeated, and stopped flapping his arms like a madman. "Ya know wha', wha' really gets my but'ons goin'?"

"No, what," James said disinterestedly, looking around the room for anyone that might've stayed behind so they could help him get Nathan out of there. No such luck. The place was deserted. Even the clean-up crew was gone.

"When people try an' take away wha's bes' of me!" he yelled, and slammed his fist onto a fork, which consequently went flying into the air. "They a'ways do that! Ev'time I move! There they are, wit' their pitchforks!"

James had to suppress a small laugh; Nathan was not making any sense, and it was rather funny, although at the same time hard to watch. Nathan Petrelli being _anything_ but at his coolest was hard to watch.

"Nattie, we need to get you home," James said, more kindly this time, and attempted to lift Nathan up, but he was pushed off when Nathan started waving his arms again.

"Pete's dream was true, didja know? I tol' ev'one it wasn't, but it was, an' I was floatin' above the car, and then Hi-dee smashed-ed into the thingies fulla stuff. I can fly, Jim, I'm tellin' ya!"

"Okay, yeah, sure, you can fly, but right now we need to fly you on back to Hyde Park." He pinned down Nathan's wildly flapping arms and pulled him out of the seat.

"You be huggin' me, Jim," said Nathan quietly as James positioned himself behind Nathan, his arms wrapped around him, and started walking them both to the exit.

"What? Oh, sorry—" James's arms immediately dropped to their sides, and Nathan fell backwards into him. "Ah—_crap_—" James held him up by the arms while Nathan giggled insanely.

"It was par' of my evil plan! Mwahahaha!" Nathan cackled.

_Okay, there is no way we're getting him back home like this_, James thought, and then said, "We're gonna get a room for you, Nathan. Okay?"

"We're gonna get a room?"

"Yeah. Just don't pass out on me, all right?"

"'Kay." Nathan's head drooped onto his chest.

James kicked open the large double doors and looked around for the elevator. All the way down the hall. Deciding that he needed to get Nathan into a position that wouldn't be so taxing for himself, he adjusted Nathan's right arm so that it was over James's shoulder, and, grunting, pulled Nathan up so that he was standing on his own two feet.

"All right," James panted, and started shuffling on towards the elevator, Nathan still giggling.

"Wha' room we goin' to, Jim?" Nathan asked.

"I dunno," said James, and tried to work out a game plan in his head. Okay, so, he'd go to the main lobby and get a room for Nathan, bring him up there and lay him down on his side. He probably ought to put a trash can within reach of him, too. Then he'd call Nathan's campaign manager so he could come back, pick Nathan up, and make sure he was all right. James just did not understand why Heidi and the boys had left without him. Had he told them to? Or was Heidi getting embarrassed by Nathan's drunken behavior, and had taken the boys and gone home? He supposed it was neither here nor there, but it was also very inconvenient, as he had no idea how to reach them and tell them what was going on.

James pushed the down button with his elbow, and waited impatiently for the elevator to reach them. Why was it that elevators in hotels like these always took forever? You'd think given how expensive the rooms were, the elevators would work faster—

_Ding._ The elevator doors slid open and James hauled Nathan inside and leaned him up against the wall, where he promptly slid down to the floor and laughed hysterically.

"Elevator go WHEE!" Nathan shrieked with delight as the elevator closed its doors and made its way down to the first floor. James stared at Nathan with wide eyes and shook his head. Nathan's drunken silliness was incredibly disturbing. He was like a hyperactive five year old who didn't know how to use his legs.

After what seemed like forever, but was really only about thirty seconds, the elevator once again opened its doors and James quickly pulled Nathan into an upright position and shoved him into the lobby, to the stares of the old Japanese couple who got on after them.

"I can walk all by m'self, Jim, thankee," said Nathan, and stumbled over to one of the large couches and threw himself onto it, laughing and biting his thumb.

James looked over at the main desk; there was an absurdly long line, considering how late it was. He sighed and stood behind a young blonde woman holding a leather briefcase and tapping her foot impatiently. Glancing over at the clock, which read 11:16, he calculated that it would take about half-an-hour to get to the front—that was, if nothing slowed the line down. He wished there was a way he could cut in front of somebody...

But, he couldn't, and had to suffer through standing in place for at least five minutes at a time and his foot falling asleep at random moments. When his turn finally came (about forty-five minutes later; an elderly couple took fifteen minutes because they couldn't hear anything anyone was saying), he slammed his credit card on the desk and announced: "I don't have a reservation, but I need a room for Congressional candidate Nathan Petrelli _now_."

"I'm sorry, sir," the hotel receptionist said, tucking a lock of black hair behind her ear, "we're completely over-booked—"

James hated playing the "famous" card, but he didn't have too many options left. "Do you know who I am?"

She shook her head.

"I'm James Yates," he announced. "The producer."

The receptionist's eyes widened in shock and a brilliant grin spread across her face. "Ohmigod! I recognize you now! You did _The Fix Is In_, didn't you?! I loved that movie SO MUCH! It was brilliant! Julianne Moore was—"

"Thank you, I appreciate it, but I really, _really_ need a room for Petrelli, so if there's anything you can do..."

"Oh, of course! Actually—" She did some quick typing on her keyboard, and her face lit up. "There's a suite that just became available. The Executive Harbor View Suite. Would you like to book that room?"

"Yes, please," said James, and went through all the formalities as fast as he could. The suite ended up costing $750 for the night. He briefly considered making Nathan pay him back after he recovered, but decided against it as it would seem petty and selfish, since James was wealthy enough to afford it anyway.

After getting the room key, he hurried on over to Nathan, who was still lying stomach-down on the couch, and now banging his fists on the cushions. He was garnering some strange stares from passerby.

"C'mon, Nathan, get up," James muttered, and Nathan complied, giggling as he did so.

"Whar we goin', Jimbo?" Nathan asked as James ushered him back into the elevator.

"The room." Nathan fell onto James's shoulder and mumbled drunken things under his breath that James paid no heed to as he pressed the according button. They groaned gently up the elevator.

"S'it a nice room?" Nathan inquired as they stepped off the elevator and James slid the key into the slot. The door unlocked with a loud beep.

"Let's find out," he said, and opened the door. It _was_ nice, well worth the 750 bucks. He had no time to dwell on the furnishings and the large size, however, and gently eased Nathan onto the bed.

"Here, drink some water," James said, spotting a complimentary water bottle on the nightstand, and tossed it over to Nathan, who dropped it and guffawed.

"I was never a ver' good catcher," he said, and started to pick it up off the floor, but toppled over and landed in a heap on the carpet. "Woops! Ha ha..."

Getting a little fed up with Nathan's antics, James made a noise of exasperation and hoisted Nathan back onto the bed, turning him sideways. He placed the bottle of water besides him and watched Nathan unscrew the cap clumsily and suck out the water like he was a baby drinking from a milk bottle.

_Okay, now for a trash can,_ James thought, and spotted one near the writing desk. He placed it within vomiting reach next to the bed and patted Nathan reassuringly on the shoulder.

Now that everything was all nice and ready for Nathan to recuperate, James stood there pointlessly, hands on his hips. He was finally all alone in a hotel room with Nathan, and ravishing him was completely out of the question. It was a tad depressing.

There was nothing left to do but call the campaign manager to come pick Nathan up. James was about to reach into his pocket and take out his cell phone when Nathan croaked out, "You gon' leave, Jimmy?"

James hesitated. "Why? Do you want me to?"

"No!" Nathan sat up, clutching the water bottle in his two hands, with an utterly pathetic look on his face. "Don't leave me 'ere alone."

James instantly softened, the whole night's debacle completely wiped from his mind as he stared into Nathan's pitiful eyes. His heart seemed to grow about five times bigger and his head felt as light as air. "I won't."

"'Kay." Nathan smiled sleepily and flung the water bottle aside. "'Member last time I was dis drunk, Jim?"

"Huh?"

"S'was the Christmas party las' year," he recalled. "Couldn' 'member a thing the nex' day! Passed out on the couch. 'Member, Jim? That was a fun party."

"Oh, yeah..." It _had_ been a fun party, up until Nathan's very heated argument with his wife that he swore up and down that he couldn't remember any of the following day. Apparently he could not remember calling Heidi an "overly made-up whore", and a "circus freak wit' a botched-ed up nose job". Which James supposed was a blessing, because if he _had_ remembered it Heidi would've torn him apart every day for the rest of his life.

A startling realization suddenly dawned upon him. If Nathan wasn't going to remember anything from tonight...

"Wha's the matter, Jim?" Nathan asked with concern as James began to pace the floor. "Somethin' on your mind?"

"Yeah..." James became incredibly excited, his heart rate going at warp speed and his breathing becoming faster and faster with every passing second. "Yeah, something has been weighing on my mind for a long time, Nathan...two years, as a matter of fact..."

"Wha' is it?"

James stopped pacing and gazed at Nathan, who was sitting very simply, Indian-style, in the middle of the bed. After a moment or so, with a firm resolve in his mind, he sat down on the edge of the bed and took deep, calming breaths.

"Mus' be serious," he heard Nathan mutter, and Nathan turned to face him, an expectant look on his face.

"I never told you this," James said in a hushed voice, "because I knew it would wreck our friendship, and possibly make you hate me, but...but since you're not going to remember..." He paused.

"Go on," Nathan urged.

"I...I've loved you for _such_ a long time," he blurted suddenly. "Every time I look at you, I just feel...this weird bubble of happiness swell up in my stomach...and...I don't know what it is, but you drive me completely mad, and I...I...I love you—!"

He abruptly broke off, small beads of sweat pouring from his forehead, his eyes wide and fearful. He felt, however, a sense of triumph—like the world had just been lifted off his shoulders, but that without the world on him he might tumble over and fall off the universe like Nathan had fallen off the bed mere minutes ago.

Nathan looked shocked for a second, but then—oddly—a slow grin came across his face, and, before James knew what was happening, Nathan was smashing his lips against his.

_What the—!_ was the only thought that popped into James's head as Nathan ran his tounge against James's upper lip, his drunken breath diffusing its way up to James's nose.

It was like someone was grabbing the inside of James's chest and pulling some sort of air-like substance out of his body as Nathan pushed James flat-backed onto the bed and started kissing him deeper and deeper until James couldn't breathe and a million thoughts were flooding into his mind and time seemed to stop and the world was on fire and his lips were on fire and every inch of him was on fire and he couldn't stop it and he didn't want to stop it and—

Finally coming to his senses, he yanked his lips away from Nathan's and panted, "What...the..._hell_...was...that?"

Nathan laughed softly near his ear, his thick black lashes scratching James's lobes. He started to say something, and then promptly passed out on top of him.

* * *

"He'll be taken care of," Nathan's campaign manager assured him as James stood outside the suite.

"Okay," he said. "Let me know how he does, all right?"

"Will do." And the campaign manager swiftly shut the door in James's face.

* * *

He was struck with the vague sense that it had all been another one of his dreams as he woke up the next morning in his own bed. But when he looked over at the cell phone lying on his nightstand and saw 5 missed calls from Nathan Petrelli, he knew that it hadn't been. The thought gave a jolting thrill that went straight to his heart, and he threw his legs over the side of the bed as he reached for his phone and pressed the "call" button.

The phone rang and rang. Nathan picked up after seemingly eons, and said, "Hello?"

"Hey, it's me." James bit his fist as he waited for Nathan's reply.

"Oh." Silence. Then, "Look, can I talk to you?"

"We're talking right now, genius."

"I meant at your place," Nathan said. "We can't talk about this with people around."

Obviously he remembered last night. James took a deep breath and said, "All right. How soon can you be here?"

"Give me about an hour."

"All right. See you." He hung up and went down the hall into the master bathroom to take a quick shower before Nathan showed up.

God, this whole thing was surreal! He just didn't know how to take it all in. Nathan had _kissed him_...actually _kissed him_! Hard and deep, too. Passionately. Roughly. It was the sexiest kiss James had ever received in his life, and he'd had his share of sexy kisses. And to think it had come from _Nathan!_ A drunken Nathan, true, but still Nathan. He giggled and blushed as he thought about it.

"Oh, I feel like a little schoolgirl," he said in a sing-song voice as he rubbed conditioner through his hair.

After washing himself and shaving his legs, he skipped on out of the shower and rubbed his hair quickly with a nice, fluffy towel. He didn't have time to style it, but blow-drying it quickly would suffice. Well, maybe he could spike it a little bit—no, that would seem too teenager-ish. Yeah, he should just blow-dry it. And run some gel through it so it would stay in place. Yeah. Yeah, that was good.

About forty minutes later, he was finally done with his hair and his face cleansing routine. All of this grooming business took a rather long time, but he found it to be worth it, as looking your best was never a bad thing. Right? Especially now. Whew, he felt out of breath! He fanned himself and smiled at his reflection in the mirror. He looked fabulous. Fabulous enough to make any guy weak in the knees.

Just then, the elevator in the entrance foyer dinged, and James's heart leapt. He was here! James leapt out of the bathroom and raced down the hall, almost tripping over his own feet, and quickly slid across the linoleum floor to greet Nathan, who was standing there waiting for him.

The expression on his face did not bode well. It was his poker face—i.e. his "I look stern and angry because I do not wish others to see the inner turmoil going on inside my mind" face. James had seen this face a lot over the years—and it usually brought ill news.

"H-hello," he stammered, and noticed his shirt was hanging outside of his pants. He quickly tucked it in.

"Hello." They stared at each other for several uncomfortable moments, until James had the presence of mind to invite him into the living room.

"No, I think I'll stay out here." He seemed to not know how to proceed. "Your hair looks nice."

James patted it self-consciously. "Yeah, well. Thanks."

More awkward silence. Then Nathan finally said, "Look, about last night—"

James gave a faint laugh. "I'm not even sure it was real."

"It was," Nathan said shortly. "And I'm sorry it happened."

James faltered. "Er, sorry...?"

"I was drunk," Nathan continued. "I'm pretty sure you were drunk too, and I know you didn't...mean what you said, like _I_ didn't mean to...to...well, you know. And I think it's best if we never spoke of this to _anyone_, all right? Have you told anyone about what happened? Anybody from the press or anything?"

"No."

"Good. And don't. I can't have something like this ruin my image, Yates. It would _destroy_ me, my family, and everything I've ever worked for, for something that was just induced by a large consumption of alcohol." He said the last part with a particular emphasis.

"You've certainly thought this through," said James coldly.

"Didn't really take that much thought, you know," Nathan chuckled. "Even with this damn hangover. Feel like my skull's on fire."

"I'd imagine."

"Look, let's just put this all behind us, all right? I don't want things to be...awkward...between us. Okay?"

_Bit late for that,_ James thought, but mumbled his assent.

"Good man." Nathan smiled. "Remember—keep it under wraps, yeah?"

"Gotcha." And with that, Nathan turned and went back down the James's private, skinny elevator.

James sank down onto the floor. He could not feel his legs or his head or his heart or anything in his entire body. He didn't know why he had been expecting something to happen. It was Nathan, for God's sake. Nathan, the guy with a wife and two kids. Nathan, the guy that was running for Congress. Why would he come here at eleven o'clock in the morning to confess his love to another man? James felt incredibly stupid and childish, and he hugged his knees to his chest as he laid in a fetal position on the hard, cold floor.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, _stupid_...

* * *

He was coming home from work later that night, exhausted and in a crappy mood. He would've gone out to a bar to relieve his frustrations, but he just couldn't muster up the energy or the willpower. He probably shouldn't be out having sex every night anyway—he'd get some sort of disease eventually.

He flicked on the light switch and the foyer was bathed in brightness. James set his keys down on the table and whipped off his jacket. He didn't bother putting it on the hanger and instead let it drop to the floor.

Rubbing his eyes, he shuffled into the kitchen to make himself a quick dinner when the phone rang.

"Hello?" he said, picking up the receiver hanging on the wall.

"I need to see you," said a hoarse whisper on the other end.

"Nathan?" He plopped down onto a nearby chair. "What's going on?"

"I need to see you," Nathan repeated, and took a deep, shuddering sigh. "I...I...God, I can't _say_ it..."

"Spit it out," James said, rolling his eyes, sick of Nathan's stupid cat and mouse games. He was so tired of being led on like this...

"Just...get over here, would you?"

"Over _where_?"

"Hyde Park."

"Nathan! That's a hundred miles away!" James exclaimed. He had to be kidding with this!

"It's important," Nathan insisted. "We...we all need to talk to you."

"We?"

"Yes. Uh, everyone. We have a crisis on our hands. You're the only one that can help, Jim, you're the only one who'll know what to do..."

James sighed. "Fine. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Great. I'll see you."

James hung up. He was going to need at least four cups of coffee to stay awake tonight...

* * *

Two hours and three bathroom breaks later, James's limo was pulling up in front of the Petrelli residence.

"Do you want me to wait outside, sir?" the chauffeur asked as James was about to step out of the car.

"Um..." James wasn't sure how long this would take, but just in case the meeting was very brief, he said, "Yeah, stay here."

He climbed out the limo, the driveway's gravel crunching beneath the soles of his leather shoes. He lightly jogged up to the front doorway, his coat swaying, and pressed the doorbell. He turned his feet on their sides as he waited, hands in his pockets.

_This better be good_, he thought, as the door swung open to reveal Nathan with his hair disheveled and his shirt mis-buttoned.. He looked tired and miserable, just like James felt.

"Wow, looks serious," James said, instantly concerned in spite of himself.

"C'mon in," Nathan said, and gestured for James to enter, which he did. "I really need to talk to you about something..." He closed the door shut with a quiet snap.

"Where're Heidi and—" But James did not get to finish his sentence as Nathan quickly pinned him to the wall, his breathing heavy and shallow.

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about you," Nathan panted. "About what happened last night."

"Nathan, if you made me come all this way just so you could beat me up—"

"No, that's not it!" he cried hysterically. His eyes were bulging strangely. "H-Heidi and the kids aren't home. She's in Vermont doing a charity ball thing, and she made the boys go with her."

"So...?"

"So, we're all alone!"

There was a heavy silence, and James whispered, "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"I dunno," said Nathan. "What do you think I'm saying?"

He didn't answer, and instead gazed into Nathan's hungry and longing eyes that, even after two years, he still didn't know the color of. "What color are your eyes?"

"What?"

"Your eyes," he said. "What color are they?"

Nathan stared at him. He gripped James tightly by the shoulders, leaned in, and gave him a slow, light kiss.

"Hazel," he whispered as he pulled away.

_Duh._ James cautiously grabbed Nathan by the waist and kissed Nathan experimentally, his tongue exploring the crevices in Nathan's mouth and his lips moving slowly in and out. He felt every inch of him trembling, and felt Nathan tremble too.

They were embracing, their kissing growing deeper and deeper, James's back rubbing up against the wall. Nathan moaned and dug his hips between James's legs, which made James gasp and shudder.

Nathan was planting quick, wet kisses all over James's neck. James gripped Nathan's back, his nails practically tearing their way through Nathan's shirt, his head bent backwards and his eyes shut tight.

"Oh my God..." he muttered, and Nathan stopped kissing his neck and pressed his forehead to James's.

"Why the...sudden...change of heart?" James panted as they stood there, their sweaty brows gently sliding together.

"I dunno," Nathan said. He was panting rather heavily as well. "You're there in my head all the time...can't get you out..."

"Me too." They kissed again, fierce and ferocious and lustful. James wrapped his legs around Nathan's, and Nathan pulled back.

"Upstairs?"

"Yeah."

They practically flew up the steps, holding hands like teenagers out on a sexual escapade. James was giggling, and so was Nathan, because the whole thing was terribly strange, yet at the same time perfectly rational.

Nathan slammed his bedroom door shut, and shoved James down on the bed like he had done last night, only with much more force. James bounced gently up and down.

"Water bed," he said. "Interesting."

Nathan laughed like a lion, and threw himself on top of him, kissing him deeply as he unbuttoned James's shirt. James ran his fingers through Nathan's hair and tore off his shirt's buttons without a thought.

"Hey! That was an Armani!" Nathan protested, sitting up and gazing in horror at the loose buttons scattered all over the bed and floor.

"Too bad for you," James said unsympathetically, and ran his hands down Nathan's bare chest, almost getting an erection just from doing that. So, Nathan shaved. Why was he not surprised?

Nathan groaned softly, and buried his head in James's neck as James rubbed Nathan's chest faster and faster, sitting up and nibbling at his nipples.

"Holy—fucking—GOD—" Nathan cried in short bursts as James unbuckled Nathan's belt and threw it aside; he unbuttoned Nathan's pants with ease and pulled them down.

Nathan looked like he was going to die from sheer pleasure as James switched positions with him and pulled down his silk boxers.

"Wait!" he cried.

James stopped. "What is it?"

"It's just...I've never done this before," said Nathan, laughing with embarrassment. "With another man, I mean. What happens now?"

"What the hell do you think, idiot?!" James tittered, and leaned down.

"Oh—shit—!" Nathan's fingers clutched the bed sheets for dear life.

* * *

The morning sun streamed in through the white curtains. James's eyes lazily fluttered open, and he felt confusion for a second as he gazed at surroundings that were not his own. Then, he remembered—and smiled. He rubbed his hand down over his face and looked next to him; Nathan was sleeping like a baby.

He looked so peaceful, all wrapped up in the cotton sheets, his face in an expression of pure bliss. James felt his eyes soften as he looked down upon him; now, with the white walls and the curtains and the sun...it was as close to heaven as one could get while still on Earth.

James slowly climbed out of the bed, not wanting to disturb Nathan in his slumber. He tip-toed to the bathroom, picking up his carelessly tossed aside clothes as he did so. He glanced at the clock; it was 10:27. No way he was getting to work on time. Oh, well. What the hell did it matter? He'd just had wild, hot, crazy sex with Nathan Petrelli. Nothing mattered today. Not even the fact that he couldn't find his underwear.

Wanting to stay, but knowing that he couldn't lest he miss a very vital meeting with the head of Paramount Pictures, he quickly changed into his clothes, scribbled a quick note on a Post-It that he stuck on Nathan's forehead (giggling quietly as he did so), and snuck out of the house and back to his poor limo driver, who was sleeping at the wheel.

* * *

The work day was wrapping up, and James was flying high from his success at the Paramount meeting and his success the previous night. He hadn't felt this alive in years—he was skipping around the office and listening to disco music and smiling like a crazy person, his grin reaching each ear. He suspected he was scaring Charlotte, but he didn't give a rat's ass about her and her "feelings", and continued enjoying himself as he put away some videotapes, humming "Zippity-doo-dah" under his breath.

He was just about to head back home when all of a sudden Nathan was standing in the doorway. He screamed and some papers he had been holding fell to the ground.

"God, Nathan!" James laughed, stooping down to pick up the papers. "You scared me..."

Nathan didn't say anything, and simply strode past him to the large window that overlooked Manhattan. He put his hands in his pockets and surveyed the skyscape, standing there for several long minutes.

"Something you want?" asked James, stuffing the papers into his briefcase.

Nathan didn't reply at first, but soon said, not turning his head, "You came to New York for me, didn't you?"

"W-what?" James felt himself blush.

"You left California so you could be near me." Nathan's voice sounded like a rock.

"I...I don't..." It was true, but too embarrassing to admit.

Nathan hung his head. "You should go back, Jim."

There was a silence that made James's ears ring. "What do you mean? Why?"

"You can't be here, Jim. I can't have you around. You've become a liability."

"Ex_cuse_ me?" James could not believe this. "A lia_bility_?"

Nathan brought his head back up and turned to face him. "As cold as it sounds, yes, you are. What happened last night...I lost my head. Completely. And I'm not saying that I...I regret it, but..." He bit his lip. "It's all just a game, man, don't you see? Politics. It's all one big game. Hiding your weak links from your opponents. Making sure those weak links can't be found, because if they are, the game's over and you lose. And I'm not gonna lose, Jim."

James didn't say anything.

"Listen, if you stay, I—well, I don't know what I'll do, I'll..I'll probably want to fuck you senseless every day for the rest of my life, and I can't do that! I'll want to spend every waking moment with you, I...I already do...and I can't. It would ruin everything. Not even just my career, but my family..."

James still said nothing.

"I'm sorry." Nathan reached into his pocket and took out an envelope. "Here's five grand."

"What?"

"Take it." Nathan thrust it at him, but James shoved it away.

"You think you can just buy me off?!" James exclaimed. His heart felt like it was being wrenched out of him.

"No! No, that's not what I mean...I just thought I'd pay for your plane tickets and...and anything else you need; really, it's the very least I can do..." Nathan carefully placed it in James's jacket pocket. He hesitated, then gripped James firmly by the shoulders.

"I know this is difficult," Nathan said quietly. "But it has to be done, you understand?" His eyes darted around the room as though looking for people hiding behind the chairs and bookcases, and then, finding no one, swiftly kissed James on the cheek.

"I'm falling for you hard, Jim," he whispered softly into his ear. "That's why you have to go. Say you'll do it, please..."

James closed his eyes and nodded.

Nathan let out an enormous sigh of relief, and patted him on the back. "Good man." He started out the door, then paused and turned slightly. "You get it, don't you?"

James pivoted slowly on his heel to face Nathan. He smirked faintly. "Yeah. I get it. Chess."

"Exactly." Nathan gave a small smile, and, his back tense and his fists clenched, left, for the last time.

James didn't feel like he was anywhere. Without any emotion, he took the envelope full of money out of his pocket and threw it into the trash, where the newspaper from days ago announcing Nathan's dip in the polls still lay.

He pushed his fists onto his desk, his back hunched, and refused to shed one tear.


End file.
